Wedding In Springtime(11)

Pen opened her mouth and closed it again. What could she possibly say to that pronouncement?

"If you are to best serve my grandmother, you should understand my  father had two wives. One favored"-Marchford motioned toward the pretty  picture of Sophia-"one not." He motioned to himself.

"After his first wife died bringing Frederick into the world," Marchford  continued, "my father married again. Unlike his first marriage, it was  not arranged by my grandmother, it was indeed a love match." He  whispered the words, as if revealing a shameful family secret. "My  father died in a fire at his hunting box when I was five. My mother and  grandmother … " Marchford's voice trailed off and he exhaled slowly. "My  mother's portrait will never be hung as long as my grandmother lives  under this roof."

"I am sorry," said Pen weakly. She had been convinced Marchford was  heartless for his treatment of his grandmother, but she could see there  was considerable family history driving his decisions.

"The billiard room is this way in case you have the desire to play."  Marchford abruptly changed the subject and led her down a side  stairwell. The notion of Pen playing billiards was absurd, but she  followed along, trying to arrange her thoughts enough to form words.

"The billiard room," said Marchford, entering an unlit room with rich  mahogany woodwork and burgundy velvet curtains. Compared to the airy,  white gallery it was a warm, intimate space.

"I believe in love matches," blurted Pen.

Marchford raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"Yes. I ensured my sisters all made good matches with men who would not  only be able to give them a comfortable life, but also where there was  mutual affection."

Marchford took a step toward her, his eyes dark in the dimly lit room.  His features were handsome but strong with a decided nose and chiseled  jawline. "The Duke of Marchford is engaged to Lady Louisa. It was  intended to be my brother, but with the peerage, I also inherited a  bride."

"Perhaps love can grow. Affection can develop between two people who are often in each other's company."

Marchford's eyes never left hers. "Perhaps you are right."

Pen looked away, wondering why the room had suddenly grown so hot. What  could she be thinking, speaking of love matches with the duke? "Thank  you for the tour, Your Grace. It was most informative."

"It seems, Miss Rose, we have a problem," he drawled in a low tone.

"A-a problem?" she stammered.

"We have lost Miss Talbot."





Seven


William Grant bounded up the stairs to the front door of the Duke of  Marchford's grand house. "Where's Marchford?" he asked the dignified  butler who answered the bell.

"I believe His Grace is conducting a tour of the house. If you would  wait in the drawing room, Mr. Grant, I shall inform His Grace that you  have arrived."

"No need, no need, I shall find him myself. Must dash. Already kept my  horse waiting too long. Fine stepper. Not the thing to let him get  chilled."

"But, Mr. Grant," called the butler, but Grant had already bounded up  the marble stairs to the gallery. It is where people generally lingered  on tours of the house. He recognized some of the statuary was quite  fine, but not as fine as the handsome bit of horseflesh he had recently  purchased at Tatt's, waiting for him outside.

Grant paused for a moment but heard and saw no one. He walked through  the gallery at a quick pace, looking for Marchford and wondering if he  had gone down to the billiard room. Grant strode past the statues until  arrested by a compelling sight. Miss Talbot stood looking up at a marble  of Athena drawing her bow.

In the sunlight, her blond curls shimmered. Gowned in all white, had it  not been for her golden hair, he might have mistaken her for another  marble statue of the female form in perfection. He smiled at her, unable  to stop himself.

"Hallo, we meet again." Grant walked up to Genie, all thoughts of horses forgot.         

     



 

Genie noted his presence but returned his smile with a frown. "Oh no, not you again."

"You wound me!" Grant clutched his heart. "Whatever have I done to win such censure?"

"What have you done?" cried Genie. "Why, I have had to endure hours of  lecture about you from my aunt. She was quite disapproving of me  ‘whispering in the corner of the drawing room' with you."

"Your aunt has lectured you about me? You intrigue me. Whatever did she say?"

"For a woman who holds you in such low esteem, she certainly knows a  great deal about you." Genie sat down on a marble bench, her arms  crossed before her. She pursed her lips in a manner that showed she was  quite put out, but all Grant could see was how kissable those naturally  pink lips must be.

"Do tell. I am aquiver with anticipation."

"Did you know you are the enemy of every decent young woman?"

"No!" Grant sat beside her, his face a picture of mock horror.

"Yes, quite. You are a mother's worst nightmare, a handsome,  well-breeched, pleasant-mannered young gentleman who has sworn off ever  entering the married state. Apparently, you have caused the decline of  many a foolish miss who has set her cap at you, and you are the bane of  your mother's existence. Do you deny it?"

"I am well chastised indeed."

"You accept the judgment against you?"

"Well now, I'm not sure I could ever boast of putting a young miss in  decline, and as for my mother … " Grant paused and pulled out an elegant  snuffbox, rolling it in his fingers a few times before returning it to  his pocket. "Come to think of it, I rather think I am the bane of her  existence. Or must be, to hear her talk. Mothers do take it as a  personal affront if their sons don't choose to marry."

"Only son," corrected Genie.

"Guilty as charged, only I had no choice about the only part. Would that my parents had produced a half dozen strapping lads."

"So no one would be bothered by your determination not to wed?"

Grant merely smiled. Truth was, if he had been blessed with brothers, he  would not have felt such pressure to wed. He might have even been  married now had circumstances been different. He liked ladies as a  general rule. He particularly liked the one sitting beside him. "I  suppose they warned you against me."

"I am not to be within a stone's throw, and then only if etiquette does  not allow me to run screaming from the room when you enter."

Grant smiled, a slow, lazy smile that generally had the effect of making  women melt. "Then why are you sitting beside me?" He leaned a little  closer, waiting for the swooning to commence.

Genie raised one eyebrow. "You, sir, are an incorrigible flirt."

Not exactly a swoon-he must be having an off day. "True, true. And yet you are still here beside me."

Genie waved a hand like she was swatting away a fly. "It can make very  little difference at this point. I shall be leaving soon to go back  home. I was raised in the country and there I shall return."

"Do not let this minor incident ruin your entire London season. Come now, you must have more spirit than that."

"It is not just that. You can have no idea, but my aunt is actually  thinking of paying a matchmaker to find me a husband. A shocking amount  too, I cannot fathom it."

"So you mean to run away back home."

"I am not running-oh, you are odious." Genie shook her head with an  imperious frown. "You mean to quarrel with me. Well, I'll not have it. I  am not the least bit quarrelsome."

Grant laughed out loud. "No indeed, you are not!" He gazed into her deep  blue eyes and suddenly felt himself at sea. He should swim for the  shore and let her go, but he leaned closer instead. It was of critical  importance-he came to the quick realization-that Miss Genie Talbot  remain in London. "But do not leave London without enjoying the season.  There are many amusements to be had."

"I confess I have wanted to see the Tower and the cathedrals. Oh, and I hear the British Museum is not to be missed."

Grant's idea of London amusements did not include touring the town with a  guidebook, but he sagely kept these musings to himself. "Indeed. And of  course, you must not consider leaving Town without a visit to the  theater or your first ball."

"I doubt I will have any invitations to balls." Genie's shoulders sagged a little.

"But of course you will. Did I not tell you not to worry yourself on  that score? I expect when you arrive home today, you will find an  invitation to the coming-out ball for Miss Cassandra Devine."         

     



 

"Who is she? And why would you think anyone would invite me to a ball?"

"Cassie is my niece and I have spoken to my aunt to ensure your invitation is secure."

The corners of Genie's mouth twitched up until she gave Grant a tentative smile. "How did you arrange that?"